Elden's Rose
by Fishy Rainboots
Summary: Lady Cythera of Elden was never strong of will. Her grandmother orders the unthinkable, and Cythera sees no choice but compliance. She struggles to master her own life, make her own choices, and truly become Elden's rose.
1. Introduction

_Elden's Rose_

Chapter 1- Introduction

Author: Bookworm2011

The herald of Tortall's royal court was decked in a royal blue, trimmed with silver, the colors of Conté. The man loudly proclaimed for all of court to hear, "May I present Lady Cythera of Elden."

Obligatory applause filtered through the hall... that is until Cythera emerged. The newly come court lady had long shining hair that was dark blonde, almost the lightest shade of brown. Her locks were in soft curls and piled painstakingly upon her head, leaving her neck bare, yet for a few choice ringlets. Her skin was a healthy peach and glowed luminously in the surrounding candlelight. The young woman's eyes were a bright blue that sparkled intriguingly from under naturally thick lashes. Her eyes betrayed emotions easily: the price of such beauty. Many nobles could make out anxiety in her pretty eyes. The mean-spirited patrons of court who were long embittered from court games and intrigue attributed nervousness to a hidden secret or a private agenda. However, many less-hardened courtiers understood her unease. Would you not to be apprehensive when surrounded by a group of strangers, many who cared only for personal gain, and would stop at nothing to achieve power? The new Elden girl's nose suited her face well, but was otherwise unremarkable, except to say it was whole. Cythera's lips were a delectable rosy pink. Soft-looking and pressed into a small smile, they were utterly kissable. Cythera was neither tall nor short, but slender, with pleasant curves, that were emphasized by her low-cut gown. Although low, the gown revealed good taste, and it was still certainly higher then _some_ court ladies. A deep royal blue, with delicate black lace trimming the hem and edges, it complimented Cythera ideally. It's deep, pure color brought out her eyes appealingly.

Knights, squires, serving pages, and lords stared mesmerized at the striking blonde as she gracefully walked down the steps. Applause grew, as more young bachelors joined in enthusiastically. Cythera grew more confident with every step and her smile widened. She stumbled on a step, and almost fell. As she recovered her balance, the applause grew.

Acceptance at court was very important. Many ladies never found it, and went home shamed, to grow old and become spinsters and maiden aunts. Lady Cythera of Elden would not be one of those ladies. Court approved.

As was demonstrated by the queue of young bachelors waiting to escort the new court beauty.

Delia of Eldorne fumed silently. Her admirers had flocked unrepentantly to the new Lady… Cythera was it? This Cythera would pay for stealing admiration that belonged rightly to _her_. Cythera would pay, she would be sure of that.


	2. First Impressions

Disclaimer: I do not own Cythera or any of the character, places, plotlines, etc. found in _The Song of the Lioness_ quartet. All things recognizable belong to the amazingly talented Tamora Pierce.

"Elden's Rose"

Chapter 2:

First Impressions

Lady Cythera of Elden twirled in the arms of a dazzled admirer. They whirled passed many other young couples. The walls of the Queen's ballroom were lined with luxurious tapestries detailing wars and the fall of great houses. She also passed a suit of armor, so rusted with age and belittled with cobwebs that it reminded her of the armor the manor which was likewise mildewed with extraordinary age. Although Cythera wondered why this suit of armor was so filthy when everything else in Corus's royal palace was spotlessly cleaned by an army of maidservants, Cythera could only guess. However her mind did think of one thing: the dank, eerie suits of armor that lined Elden Manor's dungeon-like interior. Which involuntarily summoned a memory: Cythera's last day at Elden.

Flashback 

Cythera ambled unconcernedly down a cold stone passage to her grandmother's sitting room. Lining the drab passageway were ancient suits of rusty armor, remnants from past generations, and moth-bitten tapestries detailing glories now remembered only in history books. Cythera recognized, as a dutiful daughter, her house's past days of glory. However she also realized they were just that: passed.

Cythera finally turned to her left and entered into Grandmother Ionia's sitting room. The heavy oak door creaked on rusty hinges. She found Grandmother reclining in a stately red velvet winged armchair, working diligently embroidering a piece of forest-green fabric. As the wrinkled lady caught sight of Cythera, she began to speak, "Your younger brother will start page training shortly, and will eventually become an honored vassal to His Majesty, the King. However, _you_, have yet to determine what your place is to be in this world."

While speaking, Grandmother had returned to her needlework, but now she looked up from her embroidery sharply, and glared at her granddaughter doggedly as if trying to pound her words into Cythera, as a blacksmith pounds a nail into a horseshoe.

Grandmother continued, "As the first-born child of Elden, you hold a duty to restore Elden to her former glory and reinstall her fame as a great house of Tortall. Your lineage traces to _The Book of Gold_, you did exceptionally well at the convent, you're beautiful, a sublime dancer, and will bear heirs well."

Cythera near shook with anger as her Grandmother stated her attributes as though she was a particularly nice horse. Even worse, this was all she was ever seen as: breeding stock. Cythera longed to be more. To be remembered as more than "so-and-so's wife" or "what's-his-name's mother". She wanted a place in the world she _earned_.

Cythera was just about to tell her Grandmother this, and then she stopped herself. She could not bear to disappoint Grandmother. Cold and overbearing she may be, but she was still the only part of Cythera's family that remained besides her young brother. Besides, although Cythera seldom admitted it, a part of her feared her Grandmother. Many a time she had woken up in the night, sticky with sweat, after having dreamed of those cold old hands around her neck: capturing her, binding her, caging her. It was a phobia Cythera had never outgrown. It started as a young child of 4, when Cythera's parents were still alive.

It was Cythera's earliest memory: in the middle of the night she awoke to an ancient face- a face that leered hauntingly above her bed. Her Grandmother had slept-walked into the little girl's bedroom, and had fallen asleep on top of Cythera in her own bed. Cythera could not move, for the larger body was pinning her down, and Grandmother would not awaken. The child was terrified, imagining a corpse above her, a monster, a foe. She did not sleep that night, and finally escaped in the morning when Grandmother awoke. Grandmother did not apologize, as she thought Cythera inferior. It was the most traumatic event of Cythera's short life, and the reason she so loved the convent: Grandmother wasn't there.

Grandmother had kept talking, and what she said finally reached Cythera. "You will make a good marriage in time. Time, however, is something we do not have. You must succeed at court. I wish to see you do this before my death, and to become betrothed to a suitable young man. I do not have the connections to arrange a marriage, as my old friends have passed on to the Black God's realm, or I have lost contact with them do to my failing health. Therefore I give you twelve months to become engaged to a young gentleman. This should be plenty of time for a talented young lady such as yourself. Now, Cythera, I cannot make you do this."

Cythera let a deep sigh of relief escape. Her grandmother's eyes narrowed, and appeared quite fierce, especially for a seventy-eight year old woman. As Grandmother's soliloquy continued, a sharp, imposing edge appeared in her speech. Heat to help the nail better insert the horseshoe and stay firmly imbedded.

"However, if you wish my blessing or your inheritance, you will capture a young man's heart, or at least his purse, within the generous year limit. No fiancée, no money. Do you understand Cythera? You _must_ be Elden's Rose."

Cythera stifled a cry. To betroth in one year or Grandmother would bequeath _nothing_? It was insanely unjust and cruel. Cythera's parents upon their death had never inherited, as Grandfater had left everything to Grandmother. Since Mother and Father died before Grandmother, the only guarantee Cythera and her younger brother Paxos, had was Ionia's will, an easily changeable thing. Without her inheritance or dowry Cythera would starve. She would have nowhere to live, no means of survival. Cythera had no choice. Become engaged in twelve months, or become a commoner living on the streets.

Cythera decided to leave for Corus tomorrow; the sooner, the better. Lady Cythera of Elden was racing the clock. However could she win?

**End of Flashback**

As Cythera's mind crashed back to Earth, she found herself twirling in the arms of Sir Alexander of Tirragen. Cythera's had a gift for uncovering a person's true nature. Although Sir Alexander was undoubtedly handsome and rich, and he had shown no cruelty in his actions toward her, Cythera sensed the graceful knight thought women to be lowlier. He had held her arm firmly to help her down a single step. He had also danced only with the most beautiful ladies of court, who it seemed Cythera was now one of. However, Cythera could not cross him off her mental list of possible suitors for these reasons. He could have seen her trip earlier and simply hoped to prevent a repeat, and men were naturally attracted to beauty. These were not crimes. Cythera must keep her options open.

Next Cythera danced with Prince Jonathan. He too was handsome and rich. He conversed more then his fellow knight, Sir Alexander, and seemed a good deal more kind. But, Cythera crossed him off her list. She had no inclination to be queen. In fact, the thought frightened her. But, if for an unfathomable reason he asked for her hand, she would have no choice to consent. So Cythera tried to be polite, but distant. She must provide no encouragement to provoke him wanting her as his wife.

Raoul of Goldenlake was Cythera's next dance partner. The large knight was not a graceful dancer, and seemed shy, but kind. His candidacy was still up for the vote.

Squire Alan of Trebond was shy. He seemed dreadfully embarrassed it seemed. He would not look her in the eye, but instead focused on a spot far above her head. His palms were clammy. Cythera later learned from a court lady that he was not rich. This ended all debate.

Sir Gareth the younger of Naxen was handsome and witty. However, his biting sarcasm and comments were not cruel, but entirely entertaining and humorous. But, Cythera later learned, he had a scandalous reputation of being involved with many court ladies. This was a serious character flaw in Cythera's eyes and made her wonder: Would he be faithful to his wife? Then again, he was also rich. Could a good point outweigh a fault? Cythera wasn't so sure it would in this case.

As she switched partners, someone very rudely bumped into her from behind. Cythera was not naturally graceful, and had acquired a form of grace over time. Unprepared as she was, though, she tripped. Luckily Sir Geoffrey of Meron caught her. Cythera spoke, "Thank you, Sir Knight, from saving me from a horrible fall."

Geoffrey gave the standard reply of, "Not a problem at all, Lady Cythera."

Both Geoffrey and Cythera turned to see the cause of her balance problems, but only caught a peek of emerald green velvet, not even discovering the person's gender. Geoffrey was thoroughly upset by this by this chain of events. From his grumbling tirade, Cythera could make out, "Inconsiderate… unchivalrous …rude."

It turned out Geoffrey of Meron was kind, good-looking, and rich. Everything she was looking for. That is, until she discovered he had been betrothed at birth and would be married when he turned 21. Why he chose to discuss this with his dance partner, Cythera could not fathom. Men were just too odd.

Cythera felt rather ill. The dull buzz of heavy wine intoxicated her frame, as she was unused to liquor. The heat of the dance floor thundered to produce a throbbing headache. And, by this point, Cythera was weary from trying to analyze someone's character in the space of a short dance and trying to leave the correct impression on said person. Quite frankly, she was also tired of looking over young men and their purses like a gold digging schemer. However, she could not afford to stop. The rest of her life depended on finding the perfect man-someone who pleased her and Grandmother Ionia. Cythera was beginning to doubt if such a man existed.

As the dance floor thickened with courtiers, Cythera wanted very much to retire to her chamber. As she was passed into the hands of Duke Roger of Conté, Cythera finally gave in to the idea of retiring. As she looked up into the Duke's smiling face, she asked, "Sir Duke?"

The Duke of Conté answered, "Yes, milady?"

Cythera answered in what she hoped was a proper tone. She was almost too tired to care. "I hope you don't mind, but I am feeling quite faint. Would you mind terribly if I cut our dance short and instead retired to my chamber?"

Duke Roger answered in the courtesy required in these situations. There was only one thing he could say according to the Code of Chivalry, "Of course, Lady Cythera. Would you care for an escort?"

Lady Cythera too answered by the rules of etiquette restricting courtiers for generations, "You are too kind, milord."

So, Roger accompanied Cythera to her chamber. Outside her door, Roger bowed and kissed Cythera's hand. Cythera curtsied in return, and thanked him before parting,

Cythera's last conscious thought was, "With the men I've seen tonight, twelve months is entirely too short." She then promptly fell fully clothed on to her bed, and slept straight through breakfast.

A/N: Hello all! Thank you so much for taking the time to read "Elden's Rose". I really appreciate it! Special thanks to my reviewers, who are all awesome! Sorry I took so incredibly long to update! I warn you now, I write only when I feel like it, so updates are never set in concrete! I generally will take a week or two to update (or longer). I'm not sure what the next chapter is going to be about, so don't wait with baited breath for Chapter 3. Like any fanfiction author, reviews are my lifeblood, and I treasure even flames. To me, they mean you care enough to hate it, so it's kind of a twisted compliment. So even, if its one word, REVIEW! I'll love you for ever if you do (and don't let that put you of). Again, thanks for reading.

Challenge: Where do you think I got the inspiration for Cythera's brother and Grandmother's names? Whoever guesses right FIRST, gets an OC after them in a later chapter.


	3. Unconventional Meetings

_Elden's Rose_

Chapter 3-Unconventional Meetings

Author: Bookworm 2011

**Disclaimer:** I'm not Tamora Pierce, nor do I claim any relation to her fabulous work. This is being done for no profit but in the spirit of fun. No copyright infringement is intended. Sadly, Cythera, Gary, and the gang belong to her. Actually, not so sadly, seeing as if she didn't own them, there would be no books. So I stand corrected by myself. Happily, Cythera, Gary, and the gang belong to Tamora Pierce.

As Cythera woke she noticed her mouth felt especially sticky and that her entire body was sore. At first, this puzzled her. How could that have happened? Then she remembered: her introduction to court. She had been exhausted after a night of merrymaking and had collapsed upon her bed. This was highly unusual as normally she had a very concrete and specific routine. Cythera was like this in much of her life: organized, collected, and very constant. It helped her to excel at the convent, as she never lost supplies, was punctual, and well-liked. However, last night was so emotionally and physically draining that she hadn't stuck to her routine. Now she would have to spend more time getting ready.

Cythera hoisted herself off the down comforter, her feet ungracefully plopping on to the floor. The cold stone was a shock, and caused her to leap to the rug in the middle of her bedroom as quickly as humanely possible.

She stood in front of the mirror examining her face. Face paint was caked on her face. Her eyelashes were sticky with a special formula that made her light eyelashes appear to be naturally dark. Now, what was meant to enhance beauty, only hindered. First, she cleansed her face and changed into a clean gown, more for comfort then beauty. She pulled on a pair of nice-looking and functional boots, and tied her long curls back with a ribbon the same shade of navy as the dress.

She glanced outside to notice the sun already high in the sky. Breakfast was long over, but her stomach was growling agitatedly at her. Cythera had been too nervous the night before to eat, and consequently, was now horribly hungry.

This made up Cythera's mind of what to do first, and she headed down to the kitchens. The first order of business when in a new place was to make friends with the kitchen staff. Cythera introduced herself to the various chefs, scullery maids, and servers she met in the kitchens. The head cook made a particular impression on Cythera. She was named Ambrosia and was loud and cheerful, trading banter with the kitchen workers while simultaneously calling out a startling array of orders. Cythera grabbed an apple and a roll before exiting. She called her thanks loudly as she hurriedly retreated to let the people who prepared three meals a day for an entire palace do their job

Cythera had just put her last bite of roll into her mouth when she rounded a corner and bumped into something very solid. Both bodies flew to the ground and Gareth the Younger, the young gentlemen she had collided with apologized profusely, "My lady! I did not see you there. My most humble apologies, it would seem I had my nose lost in a book."

He stood and offered a hand to help Cythera up. When she did not take it, he looked dumb-founded. Was the new court beauty this easy to anger? Then he noticed the strange shade of red her face was turning. He thought her embarrassed, and apologized and once again extended his arm to her. She still did not take his hand, accept his apology, or offer one of her own.

Although normally good-humored, Gary was quick to anger and this was his breaking point. He was about to turn away when he noticed she was turning a shade of blue to match her dress. He also noticed she was not breathing. Gary roughly pulled her up and performed a maneuver he had read about in a fascinating book called, _Maneuvers to Save a Life_. A small piece of food was quickly popped out of her mouth and he noticed she started to breathe shallowly. Now, Gary was a little worried. Would she loathe him forever? Begin in a screaming rage? Gary never pretended to be all-knowing about women, and expected the unexpected.

However, what left Cythera's mouth was still a shock, "I am so sorry! Are you hurt?"

Gary gaped open-mouthed for a moment before shouting, "_You're _sorry!?!?"

Cythera was shocked anyone could be so rude as to be mad at someone for an unfortunate accident, and was astonished by his harsh reaction, "Yes, _I'm_ sorry, is that not good enough for you?"

Cythera then turned promptly on her heel before marching off in a huff. She only stopped when she heard a chuckling voice call out, "Wait, stop!"

As Cythera's pet peeve was unjustly rude people she turned slowly to face him: to not respond would be the epitome of rude. Cythera said nothing and waited for Gary to speak.

He soon explained, still laughing quietly, "I meant no offense, lady. I only was stunned that even though _you_ almost choked to death, you were worried about me. Your graceful gentility is so very kind."

Cythera snorted most ungracefully, and said something entirely unlike her, "If you think _I_ am graceful you must have hit your head a little too hard. Did you not see what just happened?"

His eyes twinkling mischievously, Gary replied, "I think, my lady, that we both shall try to take the blame for this incident and should merely attribute it to wet floors."

Cythera looked around confusedly, "Bt there aren't…Oh, I see. Yes, wet floors. Should the maids not put up signs to warn people of the hazard of wet floors?"

"I think so indeed, my dear," Gary responded in a play pompous manner.

Cythera laughed enthrallingly, and soon the two were laughing so hard they were leaning on the walls. Even though nothing quite that funny.

While they were still incapacitated in throws of laughter, Duke Gareth the Elder chanced upon them and looked enquiringly at his son. "Gary, whatever are you and this young lady doing?"

Gary answered in between laughs, "Taking a moment to admire the clean floors! You know, they were quite wet not too long ago?"

The duke took a moment to wonder at the younger generation before continuing on. As he walked away, the pair vaguely heard him say, "Young people these days…Gods, help the kingdom when Jon inherits."

This statement sent them into further peals of laughter. Half an hour later, their chests were heaving from lack of oxygen. They recovered themselves, and separated. But, this moment would stay in their mind forever, and although they didn't know it now was the beginning of a friendship.

**A/N:** Sorry I took so long. However, updates will generally be this far apart. Thanks to all my reviewers, you're the best! I worship reviewers and greatly appreciate your comments. Thanks! Please let me know if my attempt at humor was misguided. I really need the help.

Merkaba7734 won the challenge last chapter. Congratulations! She knew the names Ionia and Paxos were a chain of islands near Greece, of which Cythera is also one. I know I didn't use your OC this chapter. Don't worry; I'm saving you for later!

CHALLENGE: Identify the allusion to mythology in this chapter and say why it fits. Merkaba, please don't guess again, as I'm sure you'll get it. I don't think it's nearly as difficult as the one before. This challenge's prize is the dedication for Chapter 4. Please don't be afraid to guess. Thanks!


	4. One in a Million

_Elden's Rose_

Bookworm2011

Chapter 4: One in a Million

The next couple of days after Cythera and Gary's run-in played out without further mishap. They passed normally, with Cythera and Gary only exchanging the occasional hello in the halls of the palace. One noteworthy thing did occur: Cythera's good friend from the convent, Lady Karina of Basildon, arrived at court. Like many ladies, Karina had come to court to make a good marriage. However, Karina's family hoped she would find love and companionship in her spouse, whereas Cythera's grandmother was looking only for political gain and prestige.

At the last moment, Cythera decided against confiding in Karina of her problem, not because she thought Karina untrustworthy, but because Cythera was disappointed in herself, and that she still was not strong enough to defy her grandmother.

Cythera's thoughts turned once again to Grandmother Ionia's matchmaking scheme a few days after Karina's arrival, when the elation of seeing her friend had died down. Cythera must now think of a suitable time to impress the young gentlemen of court. Cythera still had not decided on one male to focus her attention on. So, that while in her room one night, she decided to make a list of potential suitors. Cythera's organized personality and like of order resulted in the making of many lists to help Cythera in every area of life.

As Cythera created her list, she realized something: she had very little concrete information about anyone. One dance was hardly enough to determine if someone would make a good husband and life partner. Anything Cythera did know was only idle court gossip, and could easily prove to be false. Cythera must interact with the young men of court more often. Before enlisting Karina in her new task of socialization, Cythera slid her list into an outdated book on her shelf and placed the volume in the middle of the bottom shelf in her bookcase. It would not do for it to be found.

Cythera dressed warmly in a soft woolen pale rose pink dress and pulled a cream cloak around her shoulders. She tugged soft brown leather boots on her feet and left to find Karina. Cythera first checked Karina's rooms in the palace.

After a gentle knock on the door, the oak opened to reveal a pretty blonde with an underlying tint of red to her hair. The gray-eyed lady was on the short side, but charismatic and kind. Her grace was noticeable, and together, Cythera and Karina made a very nice-looking pair. As the two ladies chatted softly, they attracted appraising looks from many of the males in the practice yards. Cythera and Karina stopped in front of a group of knights in a bout of swordplay.

Cythera inquired, "Who is the tall red-head?"

Karina smiled, "He's nice-looking, isn't he? I think his name is Bennett of Kennan. I danced with him my very first night at court, and he's a superb dancer"

The pair continued their circuit of the courts. They soon reached a practice court filled with a group of boys. This was not so different from the other courts, accept for the fact Cythera could spot Gary's broad shoulders among the crowd. Gary must have noticed Cythera as well, for soon he was coming over to meet her, a broad smile on his handsome face. He was accompanied by one of his friends, whose name Cythera could not recall. Both young men bowed, and Cythera and Karina curtsied in return.

Gary greeted her, "Good day, Cythera, have you met Alexander of Tirragen? Though, I daresay I have not had the chance to meet your pretty friend."

Karina giggled; the staid convent was very different from court, and Karina was still becoming accustomed to handsome, flirting young men. Cythera introduced Karina at Gary's cue, "Gareth of Naxen, allow me to introduce Lady Karina of Basildon. And I have met your friend. We danced together my first night at court. But, my question is: does he remember me?"

Alexander of Tirragen answered elegantly, "My lady, how could I forget such a beautiful face as yours? It is one in a million and breathtaking. Surely you joke to suggest you are forgettable."

Cythera blushed and replied while staring at anything but the young men's faces, "You flatter me."

Gary laughed, "Oh, he does not flatter, but only tells the truth. I, too, have found our meetings especially memorable," here Gary winked mischievously as he shared the private joke of their hallway run-in silently with Cythera, "But, tell me: what brings you two fine ladies to watch these young rascals? Should you not be watching real men practice?" Gary puffed out his chest in a show of masculinity that clearly illustrated who he considered a "real man."

Karina was now feeling more at home in this environment and answered, "Real men? Where would we find some of those?"

Gary pretended to be hurt as he clutched his shirt, a hand over his heart, "My lady, you wound me. Surely you do not insinuate _I_ too am a mere child."

This time Cythera answered, "You are absolutely right, Gary, a child would _never_ pout as you are now."

At this the till now silent Alexander of Tirragen laughed, "She's got you there, Gary! I think maybe the pair of them are more than a match for you. I am now so impressed as to now ask a favor of the ladies. Please, Cythera and Karina, will you please grant me the honor of accompanying myself and the poor child next to me to the masquerade ball planned for a fortnight? We promise to be on our best behavior and go to bed when our mothers tell us."

Cythera smiled and glanced at her companion. Karina looked in no opposition to accompanying the young men to the ball, and so Cythera readily agreed, "Of course, we will be delighted to escort you gentlemen to the ball."

Gary smiled and nodded enthusiastically, while Alex voiced his reply, "Excellent, we will come to your rooms at half past six to escort you to the ball."

The four said the customary good-byes required by court etiquette before they parted ways. Cythera and Karina were already were planning their costumes as they strolled away.

Soon Cythera was once again alone in her rooms. She had been planning her costume in her head on the way back from the practice yards, and she must now contact a seamstress. The gown she pictured mentally would take much work and be expensive. The finished product would be resplendent if made correctly though, and Cythera could not wait to get started. She hurriedly sketched a design and wrote out a description of the dress. She now requested a palace footman to accompany her; it was not seemly for a young lady to venture into the city alone. As soon as her escort arrived, Cythera rushed out of her room to a very highly recommended tailor in the city. Hopefully, the tailor would be able to finish the elaborate design in time for the ball.

As Cythera rushed to the seamstress' shop she thought how lucky it was she had been invited to the ball. Especially since Cythera needed all the time possible to create her costume, and before the timely invitation, Cythera had not known the ball existed. What would have happened if Cythera had been taken completely unawares had not had the time to have a costume made? She would have had to wear a dress she already owned and throw a costume together haphazardly at the last minute. This would be fine, but would undoubtedly not help Cythera win someone's heart. To be anything but an enormous success was a failure to Grandmother and Cythera could not fail. This way, Cythera would be the bell of the ball and in the forefront of every young man's mind.

As much as Cythera hated this gold-digging and scheming, Cythera still could not stand up to her grandmother. The thought of her own deceit made Cythera want to retch, and she wished she could be like Karina. She wished she could marry for love. She wished she could be honest with her friends, old and new. She wished her loving parents were still alive. But, wishing helps no one if it does not come true, and Cythera did not seem to have any luck with her wishes. After all, only one in a million wishes comes true. Cythera just wished, for once, hers would be that one.

A/N: Sorry I made you all wait so long for Chapter 4, but I told you I update slowly. This is unlikely to change. This chapter I used the contest winner from the first chapter. Merkaba appeared as the OC, Karina. Thank you guys so much for reading, I would absolutely love you to pieces if you reviewed!


	5. Luck at Last

Elden's Rose

Bookworm2011

Chapter 5: Luck at Last

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to plungers-rock-my-socks for winning the challenge in chapter 3. I should have dedicated chapter 4 to her, but I forgot, so she gets chapter 5 (which I like better anyway!)

Cythera's dress had been finished by the seamstress just in time for the ball. It had been delivered to the palace the night before. The tailor had exceeded her reputation and had created a gauzy, stylish dress fit for a queen…or a butterfly. Cythera had decided to go to the costume ball as a butterfly. Her reasoning was that butterflies were pretty, graceful, gentle, and well-liked. These were qualities that Cythera thought men wished for in their wife, and Cythera had yet to find a suitable husband. Besides, the dress looked incredible.

The dress was a heavily pleated floor length gown in a deep shade of red very similar to maroon. It was crafted from a heavy material that was combined with the added weight of the violet beading on the hem to weigh the dress down, flow gorgeously, and hit the floor just right. With a square neckline and elegantly gathered sleeves drawn to a taper, this dress was the epitome of elegant. One thing about the dress made it unique among the young ladies of the court: it was entirely shapeless, from the neckline it fell straight to the floor. However, Cythera had designed it in this fashion so that a satin violet ribbon could be tied just below the breasts to instantly create a form-fitting costume.

Over the gown, Cythera wore a translucent sleeveless robe of the darkest violet. This robe was long and draping. It billowed out luxuriously to encompass the space in Cythera's immediate vicinity and created the illusion of wings and that in any given moment, Cythera could lift off in flight.

Cythera's mask was made of deep violet, cool indigo, and iridescent green feathers that were shaped in the form of two large butterfly wings that met over the nose. Interspersed in this design were small yellow feathers that provided a dramatic flair to the arrangement. Simple silver jewelry complimented the elaborate design artfully. Cythera's hard work and creativity had certainly paid off in this masterpiece's design.

Just as Cythera had finished preparing for the ball and had tied the slim violet ribbons of her mask behind her head, a knock sounded at the door. Cythera assumed this was Alex, Gary, and Karina coming to pick her up for the ball. Cythera was glad they were going as a group of four. Something about Alex, with his cat-like grace and quiet ways, made Cythera unexplainably uneasy. She felt unsettled around him; as if he knew something she didn't. She got the feeling he wasn't going to let anyone even guess his thoughts. Cythera shook this off as silly, telling herself he was only shy and enforcing this with the fact that he had been nothing but chivalrous in his treatment of her.

Cythera liked facts. She enjoyed the concrete evidence that something was true and unchangeable, always right. It made her comfortable. Alex presented a question mark, or even a blank, not yet to be filled. Cythera did not feel comfortable with him alone and was glad she was going with a group.

Or she thought she was going with a group; for only Alex was at the door when she opened it, a lone figure dressed in black as a raven. Alex's hair was slicked back and he wore a mask with a protruding beak and black feathers. Hs clothes were entirely black as well.

Alex bowed to Cythera and she curtsied gently and extended her hand. He kissed it and extended his arm as he greeted her, "Lady Cythera, good evening. You look beautiful tonight. Gary has decided to accompany Karina and I have been given the honor of escorting you. Does this suit you?"

Cythera was unsettled by his lone figure, but ignored it. It didn't matter they were going to a ball together. It didn't mean anything. It was just one event. Plus, Cythera could not exactly say, "No, I would really rather go with the others as well," so she diplomatically agreed to his plan and they made their way to the ball.

As they entered, many eyes followed Cythera's figure across the room. It was difficult to tell the many courtiers apart in their masks. Some wondered aloud who the pretty butterfly was with her dark raven companion.

Alex questioned, "Cythera, would you do me the kindness of joining me for the first dance?"

Cythera acquiesced, "I would be honored, my lord." The two made their way to the dance floor and whirled gracefully around the floor as a tune to quick for conversation begun. Cythera mentally thanked whoever chose this song. It gave her an excuse to not converse with Alex and get lost in thought as her feet automatically performed dance steps practiced for long hours at the convent.

Cythera had not liked that Alex had referred to her so informally. It was basic court etiquette to not call another noble by their first name, but by their title until they asked you to call them otherwise. It was basic respect, and Cythera did not like anyone straying from etiquette or taking liberties. Although Cythera called her peers by their given name mentally, she always referred to them by aloud by their title. It was only good manners. Alex had certainly never been given permission to call her "Cythera," and his flippant use of her name irked her. However, Cythera was too shy, quiet, and polite to correct someone. This held especially true for Alex whose sleek, feline grace intimidated Cythera.

After Cythera had danced with Alex twice, she joined Gary for the next number. Gary immediately put her at ease. Although he was not as graceful as Alex, he was a good dancer and fun to be with. His cheerful and joking demeanor naturally relaxed Cythera. She enjoyed being with him. He enquired as to her evening so far and complimented her on her appearance. Oddly, Cythera blushed when Gary said this, but felt indifferent from Alex's similar flattery earlier this evening.

Cythera changed partners several times, dancing with Raoul of Goldenlake, Faleron of King's Reach, Prince Jonathon, Bennett of Kennan, Lord Dionysus of Stonewall, and Alan of Trebond. Cythera noticed her friend Karina flirting with Gary. Gary was a good guy and he seemed to be getting on well with Karina. Cythera was happy for her friends.

Soon it was getting late and many people had abandoned the ball for their cozy beds. Cythera's feet were starting to ache from all the dancing and from the fact that Lord Dionysus of Stonewall had drunk more wine than he could hold. He smelled heavily of alcohol and stepped on Cythera's feet more than once. His feet were heavy, large, and burdensome. Cythera's feet were throbbing from his clumsy steps. She hoped someone would rescue her from the drunken lord soon. Alex came to her rescue at the end of the dance, suavely cutting in. Soon the music changed to a traditional dance and the pair began dance around the ballroom floor.

Cythera usually only drunk wine when it was well watered down. She thought she might have had more wine than her body could hold, as proved by the dull ache in her forehead. Alcohol always gave Cythera a headache. Though, the alcohol dulled her senses enough to relieve the ache in her feet. Cythera was still sober enough to recognize that although her feet's pain was temporarily dulled, they would hurt that much worse in the morning, along with the combined headache rooted in too much alcohol.

As the last note sounded in the staid, courtly dance, Cythera realized Alex was speaking, "Cythera, I have had an enjoyable time tonight; however, it is late and I am sure you are as tired as I am. Please allow me to escort you back to your room."

Cythera nodded, "Of course, my lord, it is late and I should retire if I wish to be productive tomorrow."

The two set off for her room, Cythera on Alex's arm. Soon they reached Elden's palace rooms and it was time for them to part. Cythera had removed her mask on the way up to the room. She now started to thank Alex in the required manner, "My lord, I thank you for the entertaining evening and your kind escort. Good night." Cythera turned to open the door to her suite, but Alex's hand on her arm stopped her short. He had not yet released her.

And that was how it felt. As though she was an animal and under Alex's control. Clearly, this was his territory. And he had not dismissed her yet, so she may not leave. The alcohol heightened Cythera's feelings as she felt the anger at her captivity welling up inside her. Though Cythera had a very long fuse, she was about to blow when Alex spoke.

He said, "I, too, had a pleasurable evening. I thank you for being so kind as to grace me with a pretty lady's companionship. Good evening." Alex leaned in and Cythera thought for a moment he was going to kiss her lips. Cythera was not ready for that.

Alex was courteous, but Cythera could not shake off the feeling that something was lurking under the surface. Cythera could not help but think that whatever it was, it was certainly bad. It was the vibe he produced. It was almost like a shadow or a fog surrounding him. One not everyone noticed or could put a name to, but was there. Cythera was sure if you mentioned Alexander of Tirragen in a conversation the air would grow stale, the people tense. It was just how he acted. Alex was cold, untouchable, unapproachable, and intimidating. This was what made Cythera hesitate. Although his actions had been nothing but polite, Cythera could not shake off this shady impression.

This thought train took up much time. Cythera had decided that if he came for her lips, she would turn her head. It might be the oldest trick in the book, and fairly obvious, but Cythera did not know what else to do. Besides, the trick was effective. There was no time to put her plan into action now, however. Luckily, though, he only pecked her cheek.

It seemed Cythera had a bit of luck at last.

This good fortune was soon to change.

A/N: Thanks to all the kind reviews for the last chapter. I'm so glad everyone enjoyed it! Please review, I would absolutely love it if you did. All comments, suggestions, and advice is welcome. Merkaba once again appeared as Karina.

I know I have quite a few references to Greek mythology. I think these small additions to the story don't change anything drastically and only adds something fun to look for!

**I also have another challenge. Can anyone spot the reference to Greek mythology? The first reader to review with the correct answer gets a dedication in Chapter 6. **


	6. Ice Disaster

_Elden's Rose_

Bookworm2011

Chapter 6: Ice Disaster

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to Darth Tater, for answering the challenge correctly and first. An overwhelming majority of readers got it right, so great job!

I always forget a disclaimer, so here it is:

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Song of the Lioness_ quartet, the _Protector of the Small_ quartet, the _Immortals_ quartet or anything else Tamora Pierce has ever written. Everything is Tammy's!

A/N: This chapter tells the events in _In the Hand of the Goddess_, pages 186-190, by Tamora Pierce from Cythera's point-of-view. Enjoy!

The weeks at court continued to pass swiftly. Soon autumn gave way to the icy winter, and a pond beyond the castle froze over to create a popular past time for the castle's youth: ice skating. One particularly cold January day, it was decided that the pond in question had been frozen over long enough to consider strong enough to support skaters' weight. This prompted many ladies, knights, squires, and even a few fat old lords to rejoice.

Cythera and Karina were lacing their white skates when Prince Jonathan glided over. He smiled at Cythera and offered his hand and a few words of greeting, "Good day, ladies. Lady Cythera, would you like some assistance?" Cythera smiled at Jonathan, returned his welcome, and took his hand. He pulled her almost effortlessly to her feet. The prince was strong, as were Cythera's ankles. Skating had been a popular activity at the convent, and one of the few the priestesses approved. Most of the ladies at court were excellent skaters because of this. Lady Gwynnen was a prime example. She was cutting a pattern of whirling figure eights across the glistening ice. Her happiness and exuberance was plain to anyone with eyes: she laughed joyously as she performed this trick.

Cythera habitually cast a glance at Alex. His quietness and secrecy still bothered her. His presence always accounted for a shadowy reminder, and an instinct to flee. Cythera's inborn politeness refused to let this uneasiness show in her actions, which resulted in a wordless endurance of his presence. Luckily, at the moment he was talking with Squire Alan. Cythera could pretend she hadn't wanted to interrupt their discussion and skate in the opposite direction, though. She almost smiled as she thought this. Just as she was about to enact her plan, Jonathan spoke, "Lady Cythera, let's skate this way. It seems my squire is reluctant to skate. We must convince him." He looked into Cythera's eyes and smiled at her, clearly indicating they skate towards Alex and Alan.

He had asked politely for her agreement, and Cythera had no choice but to concede. Cythera replied, "Of course, your highness. We cannot have him missing out on all the fun!" As she said this, Cythera smiled. No one could doubt the truthfulness of this statement from her attitude, words, or actions. But, most courtiers have some skill with lying.

The pair skated over to the group now trying to convince the stubborn squire on to the ice. Soon cat calls of "Chicken!" could be heard floating around the group.

Cythera heard Alex say, "Come on, Alan! I bet you ten gold nobles you can't even get around the rink once without falling! You probably don't even know how to skate and are scared of falling!" This was accompanied by one of Alex's brows arching towards his hairline, a silent dare to Alan.

After a glance at the Prince, Alan seemed resolve himself to the inevitable, though there was a certain wariness in his violet eyes. After some convincing, he stepped onto the ice. Cythera and the rest of the skaters cheered the young squire on. Cythera understood the pressure one felt as you stood alone in front of an audience. She had felt the same nervousness Alan was no doubt feeling now at her introduction to court. All eyes had been on her, waiting for a slip-up, a fall, for Cythera to make a mockery of herself. It would have been nice to have had some encouragement.

Alan seemed to be doing well when two of his fellow squires, Geoffrey and Sacherell, coincidentally two of the best skaters at court, swooped Alan up and whizzed around the rink, leading him through the motions of skating.

They deposited Alan unceremoniously in front of Alex. Alex laughed good naturedly, and pointed to the ice as he spoke, "Well? A bet's a bet!"

Alan determinedly set off around the ice. Soon he seemed to have found his rhythm, though he carefully scouted out rough patches and gave them a wide berth. He even seemed to be enjoying himself. It seemed he would easily win the bet, and Cythera could not help feeling a little sorry for Alex. Ten gold nobles _was_ a lot of money.

Alan was one-third around the pond when he carefully avoided a patch of reed. This was wise in Cythera's eyes, plant life in ice usually meant it was a weaker section that could not sustain weight. The ice must have been quite weak indeed, for in a terrifying moment, the ice gave way beneath Alan and he plummeted feet first into the icy, dark depths of the pond. For a moment time seemed to stand still, and the onlookers' eyes widened in terror. Many of Alan's friends and some people who were not, immediately begun to skate toward Alan. A pessimistic thought crossed Cythera's mind: they might be too late, the pond was very large, and Alan was almost on the opposite end. Cythera heard Karina scream, "We'll get help!"

Those ladies who had not rushed to Alan tore their skates off. Not bothering to lace their shoes, the women sprinted in their stockings to the healer's ward. Cythera was the fastest, and was grateful for the loose, but warm dress she had decided to wear for mobility's sake. Cythera arrived in the ward, panting and out of breath and managed to cough out, "Squire Alan! Fell through the ice. Needs healer, now!" The healers on duty glanced once at her terrified expression and a second time at her water-soaked stockings before two of them grabbed some type of medical equipment and sprinted down to the pond.

When they arrived, Alan had already been rescued from what could have been an icy grave. Prince Jonathan was frantically carrying his squire up to the castle, worry etched into his handsome features. A large group of boys followed behind the prince. As the healers' and the skaters' paths merged, they stood still for a second. The prince too worried to give orders, especially to those who knew how to cure his unconscious friend better than he did; the healers not daring to give orders to a crown prince. The two groups stood divided, neither willing to close the gap. Lady Cythera's nerves were frayed by this point, and she was not thinking rationally. Her mind skipped to the numbing cold she felt in her feet, caused by the snow she had dashed through. She imagined how it would feel to be encased in this chill over her entire body, and before she knew it, had commanded in a voice loud enough to reach the crowd, "Get him to the castle! Can't you see he is freezing in your arms?" The large gathering looked bewilderedly at the soft-spoken lady before obeying her order. As Cythera realized who she had just commanded, the _prince_ of Tortall, she shivered. Her face blazed crimson, and she ducked her head in embarrassment.

The knights, squires, and ladies gathered around Alan as he lay on the infirmary bed. As soon as it was determined by the healers he would survive, the crowd dispersed, to allow him to be alone with his friends when he regained consciousness. As she was leaving, Cythera paused and glanced at the group. There seemed to be a familial, comfortable air around the friends. One could immediately see the bond between the boys, very similar to brotherhood. Alex, who also stood near the bed, was not included in this relationship, though she was sure none of the others noticed. He seemed to be a bubble, separated from the rest, but mimicking the part of those outside the invisible barrier he instilled. The unseen wall spoke of untold secrets and veiled purposes. This cool separation, even from those he claimed to be his closest friends, threw Cythera.

If he was not honest to those he claimed to be closest to, how could he be trusted; who, _if anyone,_ held his trust?


	7. In the Library

_Elden's Rose _

Bookworm2011

Chapter 7: In the Library

Cythera had been mortified that she had ordered _the prince_ to do something. She half expected to receive a royal summons and be banished from the castle. Cythera shook her head ruefully as she thought this, mentally dismissing her silly thoughts. Nevertheless, Cythera did carefully avoid Prince Jonathan and his group of friends. She did not want to see him until she was sure he had forgiven her, or, better yet, forgotten her. Fate, however, had a different idea.

Only a week after the incident, Cythera, Karina, and Gwynnen were in one of the palace libraries, though only Cythera was actually reading. The other women were embroidering lazily in the warm afternoon sun. The libraries' tall windows were perfect for reclining under on a sunny day. Cythera was very quiet and mannerly, the sort of girl nothing really happened to. At the age of eight, Cythera had wandered into Elden's dusty library and began to read. The village children took Cythera's shy nature as stuffiness and arrogance and refused to play with her. Books became Cythera's friends. Other children would play at knights going to war, using sticks for swords, and their imaginations as the setting. Cythera would read of the real battles of the past and imagine herself a soldier, saved from an attacker by a knight, who she would later befriend. At other times, Cythera was a beautiful princess who was rescued by the handsome prince on his white stallion. In this manner, Cythera built up a great understanding of battles, historic places, and the realm. Even after Cythera made real friends at the convent, Cythera still loved to read. It was her way of escaping Grandmother Ionia's terrible demands.

The quiet of needles clicking and the barely perceptible noise of pages flipping was disturbed by a large crowd of boys entrance into the library. Among them, Gary, Prince Jonathan, Sir Raoul, Squire Alan, and Alex could be seen. They were laughing at something Gary had just said, when their mirthful eyes fell upon the ladies. Cythera was unbalanced by the black depths of Alex's eyes as they fixed upon her, seemingly capturing her image. She broke away from his black gaze, and instead focused on Gary, who was speaking, "Our apologies, ladies. I hope we have not disturbed your afternoon."

Gwynnen answered charismatically, while smiling, "Not at all, Sir Knight. We were only sewing. It is nothing that cannot wait."

Gary corrected her gently, "But it seems one among you is not. Lady Cythera appears to have a book. I hope we were not interrupting your reading."

Cythera smiled as well, though she carefully avoided Jonathan's gaze, "Not at all, Sir Gareth. In fact, I had just finished the chapter I was on. But, on a beautiful day like today, should you boys not be out in the practice courts honing your skills?" Cythera blushed at her implications that their abilities were not already great, and ducked her head embarrassedly.

Gary only grinned good-naturedly and replied for his friends, "Nay, it would seem that today has been generously gifted by my father as a free day. Why waste time better spent relaxing with something that will be continued on the morrow, and the day after that, and probably the day following that day as well."

At Gary's humor, the girls giggled and his friends grinned. Soon the knights and squire had pulled up chairs and joined the ladies. Jonathan and Raoul were talking quietly with Gwynnen and Karina, whereas Alex, Gary, and Alan had joined Cythera. Gary, naturally, begun the conversation at their end, "Fair lady, I sincerely hope we have not disrupted your reading. These young lads have interrupted my own perusal of literature on many an afternoon. I would hate for you to also fall to my fate. Please, do not trouble yourself with our conversation. Feel free to read, I assure you we shall not mind." Gary's words were accompanied by an understanding twinkle in his eye and a spark of hope that Cythera would join the discussion anyway. However, for all the hope in his eyes, his words were sincere and he would respect her wishes.

Cythera had no wish to dash his hopes and anyways, she enjoyed his company. Therefore, she responded accordingly, "My book can wait, sir. It shall go nowhere and I can easily pick up where I lift off. You see, the same cannot be said for all of you." At her last words, Cythera motioned to the surrounding group and smiled. Gary always put her in the best of moods.

Gary smiled happily, but then questioned interestedly, "My lady, I thank you for your company. What was holding you so captivated when we entered?"

At his literature-related query, Cythera beamed, "I was reading a book entitled _The History of the Provost_, by Pallas Alexander, it tells in great detail all the facts of the Provost's Guard from nearly a century ago to the present. It also delves into great detail about their duties, its creation, and many other fascinating subjects. It is a most captivating work."

As soon as Cythera had begun her litany about this book, she had seemed to come to life. Her features had become more animated, her eyes were now bright, and her smile became rather fixed. Gary was momentarily flabbergasted that so fragile-looking a lady was reading such an indelicate book. His astonishment lasted only momentarily though, and soon Cythera and Gary were talking animatedly about the piece of literature. Alex was also contributing to the contribution seemingly randomly from his lazy, reclining position in the large comfortable chair. His eerie, cat-like grace was especially apparent in his current stance. Soon the talk went on to other books they had all read. Both knights were impressed by her extensive knowledge of many pieces of literary works considered inappropriate for the gentler sex. It seemed that the beautiful Cythera, although reserved and quiet, was also intelligent.

Meanwhile, Alan sat quietly in a nearby chair. He was amused at the almost identical expressions Gary and Cythera wore as they argued the finer points of many texts. Their gestures were eerily similar. Alan also noticed Alex's quiet stare, and the way his dark eyes flickered back and forth in the room, always lingering on Cythera in a most unsettling manner.

After the gentlemen and the ladies had parted ways at the end of a pleasurable evening, Cythera sighed in relief. Jonathan had not once mentioned her lapse in etiquette by the pond.

A/N: Hello, dear readers! Thanks so much for reading this far. Special thanks to my reviewers, you make my day! Last chapter I did not add a challenge, so I have two for this one! Since there are two challenges, the first person to answer correctly for each one will win and two people will share the next chapter's dedication. In the case that the first reviewer gets both challenges right, the second person to answer at least one correctly will also win. There will be two winners. Good Luck!

Merkaba once again appears as Karina.

**Challenge 1: I mention a book Cythera is reading in this chapter. Any guesses on its inspiration? **

**Challenge 2: I have mentioned something related to ancient Greek and Egyptian culture. What is it?**


	8. Death Sentence

Arranged marriages at court were not uncommon

_Elden's Rose_

Bookworm2011

Chapter 8: Death Sentence

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Song of the Lioness_ quartet, the _Protector of the Small_ quartet, the _Immortals_ quartet or anything else Tamora Pierce has ever written. Everything is Tammy's!

Cythera went to bed that night, thinking of luck. Cythera had only ever been blessed in appearance. She did most things well, but none extraordinarily so. Her only defining characteristic was her beauty. Sometimes, Cythera thought she would have rather been plain. Unwanted attention followed her wherever she went; whether from knights, bar keepers, or strangers on the street, eyes always followed her. Cythera hated this unwanted attention.

Cythera knew her beauty would be beneficial in one respect: finding a husband would be that much easier. Men were drawn to beauty like flies to honey. And like honey, Grandmother hoped this beauty would be sticky enough to ensnare a husband.

Cythera waited every day dreading what must surely come with a messenger. A letter announcing the news of her betrothal to a lord she had never heard of who was probably twice her age, wrinkled, and smelled worse than her brother did after he had a mud war with one of his friends.

Arranged marriages at court were not uncommon. In fact, few noble couples married for love; when money and power were involved, emotions were cast aside. Noblewomen were expected to accept this fate and think of it as a duty to their house to marry well and bear heirs. Cythera had been raised to perform this duty. Her time at the convent and the countless hours of lessons with Grandmother Ionia had groomed Cythera for one thing—the only thing many nobles believed daughters were good for—marriage.

Cythera had long dreamed of being carried away by a handsome knight in glistening mail who rode astride a sleek stallion. This dream of true love was one many noble ladies fantasized, and few ever got. Cythera prayed to the gods to be one of them. But, she did not wait for baited breath. Cythera had never been lucky. Why should it start now? For although she believed faithfully in the gods, she was sure many young ladies prayed for love. What was so special about her, that she might get her secret wish when so many others' were denied?

When only the occasional letter from her younger brother, Paxos, came, along with the monthly installment of coin from Grandmother, Cythera began to relax. She had been at court for two months now. Many days she had ridden with friends, watched testosterone-filled males show-off in the practice courts, and attended balls and dances. The young men at court certainly and unabashedly flirted with her. Their eyes would follow her trim figure and most made a point to speak to her. Usually though, Cythera was too shy to exchange anything more than the requisite pleasantries.

Cythera had built a close friendship with Gary over the past few months. Although Cythera was shy, Gary had an aura of friendliness and approachability that appealed to her quiet nature. He did not pressure Cythera to be chatty, but accepted her for who she was in spite of her quietness. He was almost instantly likeable and his approachability and natural charisma caused Cythera to feel comfortable in his presence. She enjoyed his practical jokes, wit, confidence, and kindness.

Cythera came to know his circle of friends more closely as well, including his squire, Sacherell of Wellam. Much to Cythera's displeasure, Alex of Tirragen seemed to be included in everything the group did. He maintained a constant presence; whether his stallion trotted beside her mare in a walk through Corus, or when she was in the palace library reading, and a sudden shadow fell over the page, Cythera could not seem to escape him. His unasked for company was perplexing: what could he possibly want with her?

The quiet knight still gave Cythera a deep feeling of foreboding. His secretive smiles only made Cythera more nervous still. His peculiar, confusing, and mysterious habits gave Cythera a feeling of dread.

In recent weeks, however, Alexander had been oddly missing from the get-togethers of the palace's young people. At first, Cythera wondered at his absence. Then, she decided to be merely be grateful for his absence. Now, she was dreading his return.

All of these thought were in Cythera's head when she received the letter a messenger had just delivered. Cythera had been reading in an alcove by the window when a resounding thump had sounded at the door. Cythera opened it to find an unremarkable boy in the livery of a palace messenger. He spoke, "For you, Lady."

Cythera took the bundle of letters, smiled at the messenger boy. The thought of a letter from her little brother, Paxos, brought a smile to Cythera's face and she tipped the courier well, eager to read the letter. She missed her brother terribly and looked forward to his letters immensely. As she quickly opened the packet in a rush of excitement, Cythera failed to notice the elegant script on the outside of the letter: clearly not the untidy scrawl of a young boy more interested in his horse and sword than in his tutor.

Cythera opened the parchment to reveal a letter.

The letter was the base of all that Cythera had been dreading, for it was from Grandmother Ionia. This letter held only one meaning for Cythera. Grandmother was not fond of correspondence and would write to Cythera for a single purpose.

Her hands began to shake as her eyes started to read the lines written with spidery black ink on thick, parchment paper. She sat down on the edge of her bed heavily as she neared the middle of the letter. Soon she finished the last few words and read the signature. Many would cry in the situation Cythera was now faced with. Cythera would have liked to think she did not cry because she was stronger than this. However, it was not strength that stayed Cythera's tears. It was the fact that Cythera was too shocked, too upset, to cry. Instead, she sat tightly her hands balled into tight fists that turned her knuckles white, unwilling to believe what was written before her, though it lie plainly on the page. She could not believe the words before her, though all facts and logic proved it was not a fantastical daydream, or even a nightmare dredged up from deep fears. The letter even had Grandmother's ancient, elaborate, looping handwriting sprawled out luxuriously on the page. Her _O's_ dipped dramatically and were wide, like a hangman's noose. Cythera could feel the rope tightening around her neck. A death sentence splayed out in ink, sent by a most vile executioner.

The letter read:

Cythera,

You seemed reluctant, at first, when I asked you to find a suitable young man. You must have done well; a proposal has been made for your hand.

He is only a few years older than you, and says you know him. He claims you even attended a ball with him. The proposal is most unexpected; I had not thought a chit like you could do so well in a husband.

He is a good match for you: rich, and already the lord of a prosperous fief. You are to marry this knight in four months' time. Do not complain ungratefully about the arrangement. You could have done far worse. Just be thankful your husband does not have wrinkles.

You shall receive your inheritance upon your wedding day.

You will soon be the Lady of Tirragen.

Lady Ionia of Elden

Alex…who made Cythera involuntarily shiver when he walked into a room. Alex…who made Cythera wanted to turn and run in the opposite direction when he approached. Alex…who sent a black shiver of dread down Cythera's spine when he looked at her, or smiled. Alex…who Cythera reacted to so badly, without a conscious thought or effort.

Cythera must marry Alex. Even the thought of this gave Cythera a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt as though she were once again being smothered by the sleeping Grandmother Ionia. She had no other choice.

Oh, yes, Cythera did believe in luck.

She believed in bad luck.

A/N: Another chapter done! Thanks so much for all the support this far! I really appreciate the reviews and the kind comments from readers. You're the best!

Everyone should thank Flyer without Wings for this chapter for prompting me to finally update. I apologize for the delay.


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